Inner Storm
by Saiyan Rage
Summary: Told from the view of Mishima Kazuya as he investigates his mysterious resurrection...which inevitable leads him to the fourth Iron Fist tournament. New chapters up!
1. Prologue

INNER STORM, RISING A Tekken IV fanfiction by Saiyan Rage 

**_PROLOGUE; _ONE YEAR AGO **

**It is a cold and rainy night. My kind of weather, here. **

**It's probably the best thing to happen to me in a long time…had been in hiding for so goddamn long…could have suffocated or something. Sometimes I think how I was better off staying dead…Hey, Hell's not so bad when you've already lived it during most of your life. **

**…but that's another story. **

**The reason I'm standing here in some no-name place in the so-called "Melting Pot" they call America is because someone tipped me off about where I could find the truth about my seemingly mysterious return from the dead. **

**It all started with a mysterious phone call (terrible cliché, I know. Shut up.). An anonymous tipster tells me that he knows information regarding my resurrection, and he told me that a biogenetic research facility known as "G-Corporation"(I almost remarked aloud "You must be kidding me"—the name is horribly simplistic) contains said information. **

** I bet you anything it's an elaborate trap under the guise of bullshit. **

**And of course, I would be the fool that falls for said elaborate trap. After all, I am a walking bad-luck charm…shit always happens to me. But I'm used to that…I'm digressing. **

**Anyway, I was told that there were some very important files containing information about me…I have no recollection of any bio-genetics research facility doing god only knows what to me, or what the hell it even has to do with me…but since I have found no real answers up until this point, I really have no choice. This was my only lead, so I have no choice but to follow it. **

**Still, the thought of some bio-genetics facility…reeking of BS. And the name rubs me the wrong way, because it sounds so stupid, among other things. I mean, "G" Corporation? The "G" must stand for "God"—after all, you fuck with genetics, and you're playing God, right? Not that I place my faith in such a deity, mind you…just riding a clichéd phrase. **

**Huh. It's almost time to get going. All I have to do is find a way inside, figure out where my files are, and then get out. Whether I get noticed or not is really no concern to me. Hopefully, I'll be out of this god-forsaken country by the time they realize I committed a 'breaking and entering". **

**Oh, and don't ask me how the hell I will sneak in there. I am well aware that I have no experience in sneaking into facilities whatsoever. Let's just hope I was a secret agent in a past life or something. **

**And no, I am not talking about my last life. For some reason, Fate thought it would be funny to have me brought back as the same person, picking up the wreck of my life back to where it left off. Bitch. **

**I just can't help but think that something big is going to happen tonight. Something so big, so significant, that I will have an entirely new agenda to deal with. And knowing my luck (or the lack thereof), I WILL end up walking out of there with an entirely new agenda to deal with. That, or it will just be another agenda to take care of. **

**Shit, that's a little too much for me to think about right now—which will sooner or later hinder my concentration. I just need to concentrate about the one thing that should happen, if all goes according to my plan. And if something else happens, well, I will just do what I can to take control of it—I've played to Fate for too long—among other things, so to speak. But this time, I'll be the one holding all the cards, and they will all be playing by my rules. **

**The time has come. The rain has been reduced to a mere drizzle…feels like an icy misting of some sort. Although I fear almost nothing (and if you dare have the audacity to ask what it is I do fear, so help me I will beat you senseless), I cannot help but take notice of the shiver that has crept up my spine… **

**…I suddenly do not have a good feeling about all of this. **


	2. Default Chapter

INNER STORM, RISING 

**A Tekken IV fanfiction by Saiyan Rage**

**CHAPTER 01 **

** The rain has now completely stopped, but the cold still lingers. **

** It is strange…as I arrive at the designated place, I notice broken glass on the ground. Probably some drunkards hanging around—sigh— A reminder of where I am. I approach the front door. From what I can tell, it has an electronic lock, which means there is no way in hell I am going to get in here. **

** Strange. Upon closer inspection, the door is slightly ajar…power failure? I did not see any signs of an oncoming thunderstorm as I made my way here…and I know I hadn't inadvertedly used the lighting that courses from my very body to undo the lock as I inspected the door. **

** That nagging voice in the back of my mind reminds me about the possibility of something else happening this night. **

**I honestly wish it would shut the hell up already. **

**I stare at the door for a moment. There really is no room for debate; it's now or never. Discarding my cloak, I take a deep breath and carefully push the door open. **

** Nothing seems to trip. **

** I step inside…as I walk around cautiously, I have become aware of the fact that all of the surveillance cameras are not on and any security devices that I should have tripped by now have seem to have been deactivated (I just hope this includes silent alarms). Either something is really wrong here, or it is my lucky day. **

**"Lucky day" is a concept that is completely foreign to me. I have lucky moments, but it never lasts a day. Night is something else…. **

**It is eerily silent. Perhaps I should move a little faster…that voice is telling me that something unpleasant will happen to me unless I accelerate…this time, I will not ignore it. I run over to the elevator—shit, I forgot, the power is out. No matter. I prefer taking the stairs, anyway. As I begin my ascension, I can hear the not-so-distant sounds of a helicopter…but it is not worth getting concerned over. I am here for just one thing. I cannot let anything hinder my concentration. **

** I still think about the anonymous tipster…who he is, how the hell he managed to track me down…why he is even showing interest in my case—how he even knew about it, as I have not spoke much of it to anybody…I certainly hope we will meet up—he will have a lot to answer for. **

** Obviously starting with…huh? **

** I am now on the way to the ninth floor, but I am hearing machine-gunfire…and it sounds extremely close to where I am now, and I am not sure I want to stick around—unless I want to be on the receiving end of it. **

**The voice: "You certainly chose a good day to do this." **

**I smile and shake my head in disbelief. I KNEW I was going to be set up—hell; I knew something would go unusually wrong. Why am I still standing here? The gunfire is getting closer…I look around, and find a door that will lead me right to the ninth floor. I go inside, letting the door close behind me, and stop dead in my tracks. **

** The room is trashed…broken glass everywhere; remains of what was either precious or trivial paperwork; computer monitors and towers now rendered useless. I see the light reflecting from several spent shells that are littered all over the floor. **

** Here is where I put two and two together: the shattered glass in front of the building…the strange power failure…the sounds of a chopper…the gunfire… **

** I certainly chose a good day to do this. **

** I inspect the room closely. Judging by the innumerable number of spent shells, it appears that there are several others here. I brush some glass shards off of a desk, and sit upon it, thinking over my situation. **

** I am guessing that they are making their way upwards…which means I have ample time to bail out of here, get as far away from this place as possible, and then track down the tipster so I can smash his head against a wall. Or into it. Depends on how my mood is. If I were he, I certainly wouldn't count on me being in a very pleasant mood. **

** I search my pockets for some cigarettes. I am not a smoker, but there just times when I need a little something to keep my mind off of my excessive worries for a mere moment. A waste of effort, but it is something to do when I cannot settle down to a book (something that I have not had time for as of late anyway). **

** Aah. I find an almost empty pack; there are two cigarettes left. I pat my pockets to feel for my lighter. **

**Shit. **

**I put the cigarettes away, lean back for a moment, take deep breath, and close my eyes, making my decision. **

** It's settled, then. I get out of here, get back to my hotel room, and curse myself out for being duped, and maybe even curse myself out for not being able to find the answers I hoped to find tonight…but that goes hand-in-hand with being duped. **

** I get off of the desk, and walk towards the door. I turn the handle and open it— **

**--And the barrel of a Desert Eagle greets me. **

**I glance at the bearer of the firearm, and then I notice that one of the others is wearing infrared goggles. That explains how they found me. The uniforms that they are wearing look very familiar, but I am still trying to place where I have seen them before. The bearer of the firearm is in a red uniform, while the others are in black—I assume the one in red is of a higher rank than the others in the group. **

** What their uniform represents and what colour they are the last things I should be worrying about; this guy is looking to blow my damn head off, and I am going to have to find a way out of this and still keep my head. **

** The bearer takes a moment to radio a message, possibly to the dispatcher of these soldiers. I continue trying to find the exact moment where I could take matters into my own hands, but a name that I hear from the firearm bearer successfully steals my attention. **

**My name. **

**He mentions the first target, which was this facility. Then he mentions the other target: me. **

** I really chose a good day to do this. **

** I contain my anger as best as I can, though that is a difficult task in itself, especially considering that these men are here to kill me. **

**At least, that is what they think they are going to do. **

**The bearer is finished with the message, but he makes a fatal mistake: his gun is a trifle lower, and he is glancing to his comrades to give them an order. **

** Almost without thinking, I grab the one in red. With my left hand, I force him to face his back to me so that may I place him in a chokehold; with my right hand, I took hold of his gun. Naturally, the other soldiers in his group drew their weapons, but I hear him screaming at them to hold their fire. Of course, this order does not apply to me, and a few pulls of the trigger let them know just that. **

** The fact that they are in a state of confusion over whether to fire or not only makes their situation worse—it's difficult to hit someone when they're using your commanding officer as a human shield. For some reason, their protective vests were not doing well against the gunshots. As they say, "Ain't that a bitch". **

** I take the motherfuckers down, and then I force the firearm from the last man standing, and with my left fist I smash into the soldier's helmet shattering the glass, and hopefully the bone structures in his face. **

** I suddenly remember that as I was getting myself out of this, the one I used for a shield just so happened to turn his communication link on, meaning that his little friends heard everything that happened, and that they will be heading in my direction to investigate the matter. **

** I check the clip on the gun—three shots left. I take a moment to inspect the unconscious body, and take the one other clip contained on his vest. To be honest, I have a severe dislike for guns, but when the odds are piled so high against you that you have to look down to see the top of it, sometimes you just can't wait on Lady Luck to give you that much-needed helping hand. I stare at the gun for a moment, turn the safety on, and then tuck it into the backside of my pants. I hear the thundering sound of footsteps approaching faster by the second. **

** As I ran for the eighth floor, I realized that there is only one thing I could do if I wanted to walk away from this one, and as much as I did not like this option, it would be the only way for me to walk about of here and not have to worry about them tracking me down—for a day or two, perhaps. **

** But it also occurred to me that they knew about me…and, apparently, my ties to this facility (Why is it that everyone knows about whatever it is that I have to do with this place BUT me? It is like a surprise birthday party, though I doubt the surprise will be anything pleasant.), so before I walk out of here, I will see to it that they answer my questions, and if I am lucky, tell me who the person that tipped me off was, so I can give him a piece of my mind as well. **

** I change my mind about going to the eighth floor, and instead run down the stairs as far as they will take me. About three flights below the first floor, I hear more footsteps—but these footsteps seem to be moving away from the direction I am heading in. **

** I stop to think this over…if I turn back now, I will end up right back into their clutches, and with results that would not be deemed favourable for me. If I follow the ones down here, I will have to deal the first blow—but if the blow is dealt in just the right way, things may just go a little smoother. **

**Not much, mind you. I'm looking down, and the odds are still stacked against me. **

**I follow the sounds of their footsteps as I run to catch up to them. I slow my pace down as I draw closer to them, but not so slow that I lose them. **

** After about three and a half minutes of tracking, I finally catch sight of them. They appear to be looking for something, and I notice the caution taken in their steps—it does seem to help. **

** If they were headed in the right direction, that is. **

** My right hand curls into a fist; the azure charge of the raging lightning contained within me courses around it to amplify the strength of the attack. On what appears to be an act on impulse (though that is not too far from the truth) I charge towards the group, and thrust my right fist right into the back of the one soldier closest to me, sending him into two others. The other three turn around, and are frozen in shock of seeing my appearance. The three I knocked down turn around so they could join in on being shocked to see me. I just glared at them, saying nothing. Two more red soldiers soon joined the six, and I did not need to turn around to know that the ones following me finally caught up. **

** No matter what I would have decided, I would have been surrounded. At least this way, I have a fighting chance. **

** One of the soldiers in red dashes up and tries to hit me with a high kick. Using my left arm, I parried the kick, and followed it up using my right fist to land a punch right in the gut. **

** He stumbles, but recovers in moments...those protective vests must have absorbed most of the impact. If I had time to charge up my lightning, those vests would not be able to do shit…well, no matter. I will have to improvise as best as I can. **

** He tries to throw a punch at me—he seems to forget that if a punch is going to work, it has to be within range of the person you're hitting. He throws another, but immediately cancels it into another kick—trying to fake me out with it. But I'm faster. I take grasp of his leg, and throw him against a nearby wall. **

** I turn around, and another soldier in red takes a swipe at me with a combat knife. He is just as stupid as the first one: he forgets about the law of being in range when attacking. He goes for a stabbing motion, but I take a small side step and use a left hook punch to his side—with no vest protecting the side area, the impact of the punch should easily render him unable to fight for a while. As he fell, another red takes a stab at me, but I took hold of his wrist and using my right leg, I smacked into the left side of his face forcing him to lean to his right, then the force of a second kick to the right side of his face sent him through a nearby glass window. **

** I turn around, and barely dodge a knife that would have slit my throat had I been half of a moment slower. The same red soldier tries to take another quick slash with the same hand, and then tries to stab at my heart—again, I happen to be faster. My left arm hooks right into his, and as I turn him towards the wall beside us, my right hand takes hold of the back of his head, and sends it right into the wall. **

** I look around me. The situation was no better now than it had been when I got myself into this. I brace myself for their next attack, but I am now surprised to see one of the reds ordering them to fall back. I stand there, in a somewhat confused state. Did they think that they were no match for me, so they decided to abort? **

** One thing I should never do is keep my hopes up, because I look down, and see something in a cylinder shape roll uncomfortably close to me… **

**Fucking Hell… **

**To attack me up close would have meant an instant beat down for them or hopefully worse; so they figure that by blowing me up, they could finally call it a night. I was almost beginning to think that they were right. **

** Trying to keep my mind on the predicament at hand, and keeping my composure and avoiding panic, I searched around as quickly as I could for a possible escape. **

**It was then that Lady Luck finally smiled upon me. **

**I ran to a door, forcing it open, only to wind up falling down a few flights of stairs—mind you, however, I will take getting a few bumps and bruises over getting blown to bits any fucking day of the week. As I fell, I heard the explosion, and was thinking about how too damn close that was. As I stood up, I felt a pain in my back…apparently; I fell on the gun on the way down. Again, I was thinking about how damn lucky I was for once, because being shot by my own handgun would have been embarrassing. **

**I really despise guns. **

**I hear the soldiers looking around whatever was left of the floor they hoped I was on when the grenade detonated. I took hold of the handgun, and slowly crept up the stairs, until I was at the floor beneath them. I walked into the room…I met the room with a shiver…I notice that my arms clutching to my shoulders, and force them off…I look up at the ceiling, and raise my gun. **

** One pull of the trigger. **

** Two pulls of the trigger. **

** That should be all it takes in order to get their attention. I quickly head out of the room, and descended to what appears to be the last floor in the building. I did not want to waste time thinking about how many floors this place had that went below the lobby. **

** There were actually some lights on in here…there must be a back-up power generator around here. But, the lighting is so dim, if I were to find the right hiding place, I could be easily unnoticed. Taking advantage of that, I jumped up to the nearest corner, and set myself there. It was not very comfortable, but I counted on these soldiers to arrive here any second now. **

** The door bursts open, and they ran in, weapons drawn. I watched as they cautiously walked around the room, looking for me…I need to think of something, though…my grip is failing, and keep in mind, I'm holding a gun. **

** Fuck it. I take careful aim, and take out as many of the lights as I possibly can—by the time I manage to take out the fifth one, they see me, and open fire as I jump down from my hiding spot, but I barely manage to dodge their friendly fire— **

** --NNNGH!! **

** A bullet grazed me on my right shoulder as I jumped down. Damn it, I can't afford to think about that right now, I have to get my ass out of this first. **

** Trying not to think about how close their gunfire is to me, I jump onto another wall, and leap off of it, using the momentum to my advantage and concentrating it on a mid-air kick using my left foot. It connects with the neck of the red soldier responsible for grazing me with that one shot. The kick breaks his neck upon contact. As I land, I turn around and manage to catch a combat knife that could have landed in my spinal cord had I not turned around and caught sight of it. I twirl the knife, and before he can even think about pulling the trigger on a drawn Desert Eagle, I throw his treacherous blade at his neck, landing it right in the jugular. **

** As he falls, I quickly roll right into the middle of the remaining group—this way, they cannot open fire on me without risking each other's lives. I spring right onto my feet and then get into a crouch, ducking a punch thrown carelessly by one of the soldiers, and I immediately counter-attack using an electrically charged uppercut to the chin, sending him airborne. **

** Turning around, I immediately hit the soldier that stood behind me first in his head with a high left kick, following it up with a punch to the gut leaving him stunned, then I used a quick low kick to throw off his balance, and I finally finished it off with a punch to the side, severely damaging the right side of his ribcage. **

** I took a moment to rest, taking in deep breaths. They appeared to be the last of the soldiers…at least, for the time being. I am sure that they called for back up as I was evading them, and they are most likely on their way— **

**FUCK!! **

**I feel a rather sharp pain in my back. I quickly turn around, and see one final soldier, brandishing a combat knife, fresh with my blood. However, his trembling and the fact that this wound was nothing too serious told me he was too scared to finish the job. I slowly approached him, the rage building inside of me. The soldier, finding that there was no escape for him, dropped the knife and fell to his knees, begging me to spare his life. At this point, I was actually enjoying this. I pulled out my gun, and aimed it at his head, and his pleads for mercy sounded more desperate. **

** I sneered, ready to tell him how badly they ruined my night, when I noticed something mounted on the left side of his helmet: a surveillance camera. He was still trying to convince me why I should spare his life, but I was ignoring him, taking a closer inspection at his uniform. It was no easy task as half of the lights in here were shot out, thanks to me. **

** Suddenly, my eyes are wide with shock…and pure resentment. On the soldier's left arm is an armband of sorts…I make out the Kanji written on it, and it reads: **

** Mishima Tekken Forces. **

** Mishima. **

** Mishima… **

**And then it made perfect sense as to why these second-rate soldiers tried to kill me. It was because of him. **

** Everything seemed to be in a blur…my head began to ring with a strange and burning pain… a strange pain that I had felt before, but never left me, instead staying dormant… **

**The pain of pure hatred. **

**At this point, the soldier had ceased his begging, and remained silent. The gun still held tightly in my left hand, I stared directly at the camera. **

** "So you know now that I am very much alive, old man," I said, assuming that he was witnessing this from God knows where, "You cannot kill that which will inevitably kill you. I will get it all back. From you…I will get everything back!!" **

** As I shouted the last words to the old bastard, I lowered the gun and instead punched out both the soldier and the camera mounted to his head. He slumped down, unconscious. **

** I looked around to make sure nobody else remained standing, or even attempted to do so. If anyone else was on the way to take their chances against me, I am sure they had been ordered to retreat by now. Fine by me. I collapsed onto my knees, feeling almost exhausted. After about five minutes of getting myself together, I force myself to stand up. **

** Immediately, I throw the firearm aside…good riddance. I walked up to where the bodies lay, and immediately began a quick search for any information they might have stolen. Knowing my luck, it probably left with those who managed to escape with their lives… **

**Well. **

**On the dead body of a red Tekken Force, I find two floppy disks. Whether the information bears relevance to my case I do not know, but I believe it will contain some key to the locked answers I have spent the last decade searching for. I pocket the two disks, and immediately look for a way out of here. **

** As I climbed up the stairs to the lobby, I realize that there is some bleeding. The wound on my back I was aware of, but there was also a wound on my right hand—from when I caught that blade that was thrown at me. I unbutton my shirt and rip off a piece of the material hanging in front of me to my left with my teeth. Taking the torn cloth, I wrapped it around my right hand, tying a knot to secure it in place. **

** I walk onto the lobby, and I hear nothing but dead silence. This did not stop me from getting out of this god-forsaken place as fast as I could. After all, I doubt that Heihachi would want to leave his little Tekken Force lying around so that they remain and end up serving as outstanding evidence that he had committed the atrocity to this facility. I hope that the disposal unit will arrive here long after I have left. **

** As I stepped outside, I heard the distant sound of helicopters coming to this direction. Wasting no time, I ran as fast and as far away as I could, avoiding the street lights that illuminated the way to and from the facility. The choppers flew over me; whether they saw me or not mattered to little to me. Heihachi knows that I am alive, and I am certain he now wishes to return me to death by his own hands. **

**However, it will be he that will look down to see the odds stacked up against him, not me. **

**Approximately two hours after the events of this night, I finally make it back to my hotel room. I had to sneak into it to avoid stirring up a scene of sorts (imagine seeing a bleeding, bruised man stumbling about in the lobby of your establishment…okay then). I look at the two disks, and place them onto the table. As I am about to remove my shirt, I feel somewhat dizzy…my vision seems somewhat blurred, and I am barely aware of my body crashing onto the floor…it is then I realize that this night really took a toll on my energy… **

** Before consciousness manages to slip through my fingers, I begin to think that I am getting too old for this sort of thing… **


	3. Chapter 02

**CHAPTER 02 **

**I hear myself moan…finally, I am fully rested. I slowly open my eyes, but the garish sunlight causes me to close them immediately. I turn my body away from the sunlight, and prop myself up on my elbows…again, I try to open my eyes, with better success. I try to stand, but my hand finds a wall and leans onto it for support. After about a minute of realizing where I was, I find the strength to stand on my own, and look at my watch. **

** 12:30 p.m. …Wonderful. **

**Leaning against the tiles, I take my time to replay last night's events as the hot water pouring from the showerhead rinses away the blood and other filth acquired from the very events that took place. **

** What was supposed to be a simple task of finding some information and then leaving ended up with me fighting for my life…and leaving with twice as many questions as I walked in with… **

** How did he know? How the fuck did Heihachi Mishima know that I was involved with this G-Corporation, when I do not even know? What kind of information did his Tekken Forces seek? **

** Those two disks…I lifted them from two of the bodies. They may have some clue as to what it is Heihachi wants…but it may only leave me with even more questions…just this once I would appreciate it if I could get enough answers to leave me content. **

** Yeah, that will happen. When I'm dead. **

** After spending two more minutes in the shower, I cut off the water, taking a hold of one towel to wrap around my waist, and then a second one to dry my soaking hair…few people have actually seen me with it down…and I intend to leave it that way. To keep people guessing…something I have always been good with. But again, I digress. **

** I hold one of the two disks in my left as I towel-dry my hair with my right. **

** "Might as well get this over with…" I say aloud. Tossing the towel onto the couch, I set up my laptop computer, and boot it up. As I waited (though it is not a long wait), I change into a comfortable pair of silk pants, and glance into the mirror, only to immediately remove my gaze from it. **

** Even though it has been about nineteen, twenty years or so, I still cannot look at myself in a mirror...it shouldn't be so difficult, yes, but there is still something about my appearance that I cannot, and possibly never will, accept…I am still not used to seeing numerous scars on this body…and then there is my left eye… **

** I turn around and return my focus to the laptop. Taking a seat on the couch, I attach the drive that would be able to read the diskettes containing what would hopefully be the information I had long been searching for. I flip the disk between my fingers, and then slip it into the drive. **

** As I take a look inside, a filename immediately stands out: "Devil Gene Research". **

**Devil Gene…Devil…a possible connection? There was only one way to find out. I click on the document, and in less than a second, the entirety of its contents become available to me. I began to read the document, but as I approached the middle, I read something that made me feel upset, to say the least:**

** "—_About two days after we found the body of Kazuya Mishima, we immediately set to restoring the badly damaged body. I was put in charge of studying Kazuya's DNA structure. Nearly three days after the body had been delivered to us, I had discovered something that was not found in any normal human's genetic makeup; unfortunately, I could not determine what this gene was. _**

******_"I decided to perform my own investigation on the body to hopefully find a clue as to what this abnormal gene could be. It took me about three days of testing, but all came up negative. On the fourth day, someone handed me some photographs of Kazuya, which were taken on the day he had been discovered. I studied the photographs, and noticed something strange protruding from his back…it looked like the remains of wings._**

**"_It was extremely puzzling…not just to me, but to all of the other members of the team as well. I spent another four days trying to determine what was so significant about these "wings". It had taken me time, but I took closer inspection, and they almost appeared to be like the wings of a…devil. Now, I am aware that science and spirituality have never exactly agreed with one another to a certain degree over history, but there could not be any other explanation. I decided that this was the only explanation for the as of yet undetermined gene, and I decided to deem it the "Devil Gene". _**

**_ "I will prepare a presentation to discuss this in the next week. I doubt anyone will believe me at first, but hopefully I will gather enough evidence come presentation day to prove otherwise." _**

**_ --R.G. _**

**After I had read this document, I scanned the disk for anything more about this…."Devil Gene" (The funny thing about scientists is that they always have to try and find some goddamn way to take something "spiritual" and come up with some bullshit scientific explanation). **

** Nothing. I take out the disk, and insert the second one. Hopefully, HOPEFULLY, I will find something more on there. **

** As the contents of the disk become available, I immediately see a document entitled "Reconstruction Progress". There was mention on the first disk about rebuilding my body…this should provide me a little more insight (at least it explains the scars all over my body.) to how the hell I came back from the dead, and even my ties to these people. The document is loaded…let's see what we have here: **

SUMMARY OF OUR FINDINGS 

**_ We had found the body of Kazuya Mishima near a remote village approximately two days after his death. The body had been badly damaged due to the fact that it had come from a volcano, but surprisingly; some features on the body managed to remain intact long enough for us to identify that this was indeed Kazuya's body. However, there was something very strange with this body…on his back there appeared to be what could be considered…wings. It puzzled the lot of us, but it would be investigated in a matter of time. _**

**_ Upon finding it, we immediately shipped the body to one of our facilities to begin immediate reconstruction. Our lead geneticist Rydia Gainsborough took it upon herself to be in charge of studying Kazuya's genetic makeup. Although there was some disagreement, her arguments proved more convincing and we allowed her to continue with her rather self-imposed research, while the rest of us set to work on the restoration process. _**

****

**_THREE DAYS AFTER BODY'S DISCOVERY _**

**_ Although we have not yet reanimated the body, we have already made progress. We have managed to restore the damaged skin tissue, and we closed up the laceration wounds. After we had done this, we placed the body in one of the tanks to keep it from decomposing. In the meantime, Doctor Gainsborough had been studying Kazuya's genetic makeup, and had apparently discovered something unusual. As of this entry, we cannot tell what exactly it was that she found, but in due time, we should be able to have an answer. _**

****

**_NINE DAYS AFTER BODY'S DISCOVERY _**

**_ As we continued our reconstruction process, the monitors picked up a heartbeat in the seemingly lifeless body. We investigated this to make sure it was not a fluke but sure enough, the body was now alive. We attempted to remove the life-support machines that allowed such an occurrence, but we nearly lost him upon doing so. However, we now know that it is indeed possible to resurrect him, and we are now working twice as hard to achieve this goal. _**

**_ Doctor Gainsborough had requested that we give her photographs that we took on the day we found the body, in hopes that she will understand what exactly this strange gene was. Someone handed them to her the other day, and she has spent the past few days understanding those strange wings that protruded from the subject's back when we first discovered him. _**

****

**_SEVENTEEN DAYS AFTER BODY'S DISCOVERY _**

**_ The reconstruction process is completed…however; we have not been successful as far as keeping the body alive without the aid of life support mechanisms. We will not give up until we can find a way to resurrect the body. _**

**_ Doctor Gainsborough called together a presentation for all of the lead researchers. It seemed rather urgent, but we understood why: she claimed to have solved the mystery of the unknown gene she discovered within the body. Showing us samples of this gene, which she called the "Devil Gene", she managed to garner enough proof that this Devil Gene could be fact, despite the risk involved (i.e. the fact that the term "Devil" relates to spirituality.). She claims that the only way we'll know is if we can revive the body and ask Kazuya Mishima himself. Although a number of us remain skeptical, I am confident that her discovery will prove true. _**

****

****

**_TWENTY-FIVE DAYS AFTER BODY'S DISCOVERY _**

**_ This could possibly be the greatest breakthrough in the history of science. _**

**_ After extensive testing, research, and more testing, we decided to remove the life-support machines, and the body…the body was able to keep itself alive! We decided to keep the body living independently for twenty-four hours, keeping him carefully monitored in case some sort of failure occurred. However, even after twenty-four hours, the body was able to remain alive without the helping hand of life support machinations. _**

**_ Now, all we have to do is wait for him to open his eyes… _**

****

****

******I became angry. Furious. Who the hell did these people think they were, acting like they were some fucking deity and resurrecting anyone like it was their sole responsibility? Why were they interested in me, of all people?**

**I leaned back into the couch, looking up at the ceiling. In a way, this is a blessing in disguise…I am allowed a second chance; something people could only dream of. But do I honestly deserve this chance?**

** I shake my head. What did it matter, anyway? **

** Heihachi would surely try to find a way to trap me, but I would have to deal with him at a later time. There was only one thing that mattered to me, and that was getting a hold of someone from that facility. They have a lot to answer for. **

** But, getting to them would not be easy…I am certain the facility is under serious investigation after last night's attack, and it would be stupid for me to return to the scene. My only hope would be to use the organization that I have been cooperating with to help me find someone that works in the facility. **

** Namely Rydia Gainsborough. I am certain she would know more about me than anyone else. **

** I pick up the cell phone, and make a few necessary calls… **


	4. Chapter 03

**CHAPTER 03 **

** I was finally leaving America via a private flight courtesy of the organization…knowing my luck (or the lack thereof), I will be returning here sooner than I even want to think... **

** During the flight, I took a moment to sleep, but now I am, as one would put it, "resting my eyelids". Strangely enough, I heard no sounds, so I assumed we had already landed and nobody was kind enough to wake me up (I don't bite unless provoked). I opened my eyes, but a light bright enough to compete with that of the sun forces them shut. I try to move, but for some reason my body feels stiff. The air around me is cold, and it feels as though nothing is protecting me from it… **

** …What the hell is this? I only fell asleep…this has to be some sort of sick joke. I open my eyes again, but the light still remained. I hear the sound of footsteps…whoever it may be; he or she owes me an explana— **

** --A female voice interrupts my thoughts. It sounds as though she is…talking to me, assuming that I am not conscious or even alive enough to be listening, but she is wrong. From what she is "telling" me, she is checking on my vitals, and according to her, she states that my progress since I had been removed from some sort of life-support mechanism has been going exceptionally well. **

** This feels very familiar, but from where? And when? I look deep into all of my memories, but come up empty. I have no recollection of being in an environment such as this…and as uncomfortable as it is, I actually do not blame myself for forgetting something as seemingly unpleasant as this, regardless of whether it occurred or not. **

**But if it never occurred, why does it seem so familiar? **

**The woman was apparently still present in the room, continuously chattering about her research like I actually gave a damn about it. I began to follow the sound of her voice to determine how close she was to me…and she was very close. Perhaps I should try to say something in order to get her attention, or scare the hell out of her. Whichever works… **

** My lips are forming the words, and yet no sound comes out. Again, what the hell? I know I can speak; there is nothing wrong with my voice…so why can I not speak? **

** The woman was over me…I was not sure what she was doing (and if I believed in such an act, I would pray that she was not a regular practitioner of necrophilia.), but if she was over me, which would mean that she was in the way of that light. I hoped this would work, as it was my only chance of getting her attention. Slowly, cautiously, I opened my eyes, and was looking directly at her name tag, which read— **

**"—Mr. Mishima, we have landed." **

** "Mr. Mishima, we have landed"? What the hell—my eyes open without hesitation, causing the poor stewardess who gently shook me out of the slumber to jump back a few paces. I look around me, and realize that I am not in the uncomfortable room any longer, but rather in a seat of a private jet plane. **

** "I-I am sorry if I disturbed you, sir," she apologized, a hint of fright still in her voice. **

**What was it that I was saying about not biting unless provoked? **

**I turn to the stewardess, and shake my head. "I had a rough flight, that is all." I rose from my seat, placed a pair of sunglasses to cover my eyes, and walked out of the plane. Standing outside were three men in dark suits (which really made my deep violet attire stand out)—must be bodyguards dispatched by the organization. I say nothing to them as I walk by them, letting a slight nod of my head speak for itself. The three followed me, one of them informing the head of the organization that I had made a safe return. Their following had ceased once the driver opened the door to the waiting limousine; sitting inside was my personal secretary. I removed my sunglasses to make eye contact with her; she was one of the few people to have actually seen me without something shielding my eyes from the rest of the world. **

**She bowed her head as I stepped inside, and handed me a folder. **

** "We have already begun a search for the scientist like you had requested, but her trail has come up cold so far," the secretary stated as I flipped through the folder. "Although our resources have yet to determine what information and documents had been stolen from the Nebraska facility, we managed to gather information about what had been stolen from the one located in Nepal—" **

** I looked at my secretary. "There was a facility in Nepal? Why had I not been previously informed of this?" **

** She shook her head. "By the time we received word of it, you were well on your way to Nebraska, and our inside resources had indicated that Heihachi Mishima had already taken control of the Nepal facility." **

** I tried my best not to slam my fist into anything, knowing that the impact may cause damage to whatever was unfortunate enough to take the blow. "Damn him! There is a report in here explaining what may have been stolen, yes?" **

** She nodded. "It may or may not be of use to you…I am sorry that your opportunity to investigate had been foiled, but had you been there at the same time, you may have been harmed; consider this a blessing in disguise." **

** I was about to reveal to her that I happened to be there the same time Heihachi's forces were and I almost let it slip that I also happened to possess a few pieces of the lost information from the Nebraska facility, but I felt that it would be better for the both of us if I remained quiet about that subject; not because I was looking out for her safety, but because I felt it unnecessary to wind up with a liability to hinder my personal mission. I quickly scanned over the documents and reports, and handed the folder back to the secretary. **

** "These reports do not specifically state what kind of files were stolen aside from that of the usual studies that take place within the Nepal facility." **

** Her lips formed a thin line. "Again, my apologies. There were many confidential files that remained inaccessible by the time those reports were written, and it may be impossible to figure out which ones were missing, considering much of the facility was destroyed after Heihachi Mishima and his forces departed." **

** "There is still the Nebraska facility, then. We will concentrate all efforts towards that, since they may be more likely to contain the information I truly seek." **

** She nodded. "Very well, sir. In the meantime, is there anything you need for me to do?" **

** I shake my head. "Just continue the efforts to gather information and find Rydia Gainsborough. Oh, and it would be an added bonus if you could find the identity of the one who had gave me the tip-off that started some of this mess to begin with." **

**I spent the remainder of the day in my room, first unpacking my luggage. I pulled out the shirt I wore a night and a half ago. I studied the various tears and bloodstains…this would have to remain hidden. I will worry about a suitable hiding place later. I also came across the two disks…I slowly held them up to eye level, and I simply stared at them like I thought the full answers would jump right out of them. **

** I suddenly felt this strange buzz in my head, which elevated to a searing pain. The room around me appears like vertigo; my hands grasp onto my head in hopes of ceasing this unpleasant pain. I suddenly feel faint…. **

** …And then I hear a distant voice, begging for me to wake up. **

** Wake up…I am not sleeping, am I? Or did I fall unconscious? I cannot seem to remember… **

** Suddenly, I hear the same distant voice requesting to retrieve "the doctor", and that is when I try to open my eyes so they would hopefully find it unnecessary. **

** However, my attempts to "wake up" prove unsuccessful…my eyelids felt as though they were held down by some potent weight that prevented me from seeing what was going on around me. **

** I hear a new voice, a voice saying something about how it had been "too soon", and that I needed "more extensive therapy and treatments before such a thing was attempted again". **

** Too soon for what? What did I attempt? I was only unpacking my suitcase. The last time I checked, unpacking one's luggage was not considered a strenuous task. Suddenly, I feel these hands lifting me from the hard, cold surface of the floor, and placing me on a bed or something of the like, though it is not very comfortable. Although I was still unable to open my eyes for some reason, I reach out with my left hand, and it feels as though I successfully took a hold of someone— **

**--Only to wind up hearing a voice insisting that she checked to see if I was all right after hearing a scream from my room. **

**I slowly open my eyes, and find my personal maid caught within my grasp. I slowly let go, and shake away the strange experience from my head. The maid merely stated that she had heard me scream, and when she tried to wake me up, I suddenly grabbed her like I was going to beat her senseless. I responded by telling her that I was having a bad dream. She seemed very skeptical, and asked why I would sleep on the floor. I simply shrugged it off as jet lag. She shrugged her shoulders, and reminded me to let her know if I needed anything, and left. **

** I leaned against the foot of the bed, trying to comprehend what just happened….I had a similar experience on the flight, but there was no searing pain that preceded it at that time…is this experience linked to the one before it? Two strange dreams in the same day…whether it was merely coincidence or not, I feel that I cannot ignore this. **

** My eyes glance downward, and fixate themselves on the two disks I apparently dropped as I was in mental pain. I reach out for them, though my hand is trembling…there is hardly anything that I am afraid of, surely I was not afraid of two little disks. **

** I take hold of them, and immediately throw them back into the suitcase, and shut it. It did not matter to me if those disks were the direct cause of the last dream, or better yet, the information contained within—I would have to keep them very closely at hand so that I could study them further the next time the opportunity presented itself. **

** I shut my eyes…perhaps I would search into them during the course of the night…I want to, anyway, but this sudden weariness will not leave me. Perhaps I will have to investigate in the morning or so, depending upon if the Organization wants to bother me or not (and I hope they know better). **

** I remove the suitcase from the bed and place it on the floor. I lie down on the bed, not even bothering to really change into something more appropriate for sleep…something that would be considered "out of character", if the person observing knew me at all. **

** I stared ceiling fan, my eyes following the sluggish pace of the blades…causing my eyelids to weigh down…and close shut… **

**I was awakened by a sudden knock on my door. I slowly raised my head, turned to face the door, and I spoke with a tone letting the intruder know that I was not to be bothered any further: **

** "Unless you have any business with me, I would like to be left alone, thank you." I threw my head back onto the comfort of my pillow. **

** "It is I, Mishima-sama." **

** Shit, it was my personal secretary, and here I was, looking like I spent the night at a wild party and hit the bottle hard. No hangover, that's the fortunate part, though perhaps it would be more pleasant than what I have been going through as of late… **

** I quickly jumped out of bed, and faced the door once again. "I will be with you in a moment!" **

** "Very well." I could hear her footsteps echo as she walked away. I quickly changed into something not so sloppily, and barely took time to fix up my hair. I did not want her to see me as a mess—mind you, I am not attracted to her—I just do not wish to portray myself to anyone in as a disheveled wreck. **

** I left my room and met with her in the den. She had already set up a laptop computer and laid out a single folder on the coffee table. Sitting on the couch opposite her, I picked up the manila folder, which bore the label "G-Corporation Data". **

** "Is this the missing information?" **

** She did not make any sort of gesture indicating a "yes" or a "no". I place my attention on the folder, viewing its contents. Contained within it was a list of all the information that had apparently been confirmed missing or stolen from the Mishima attack. I scanned the list for anything of importance, and lo and behold at the end of useless information about biogenetics and experimentation, I found something. **

** File name "Devil Gene Research" and "Reconstruction Progress". These were the files I had…I removed the paper clip, and found another page with file names. At first, it appeared to be more of the same biogenetics bullshit listed on the previous page…and then more filenames of importance came up in the middle of the list: **

**"_Review of Reconstruction_" **

**"_Possible Mental Ailments_" **

**"_Kazuya Mishima_" **

**A review of the reconstruction…I suspect it will provide more in-depth information than that of the progress file did. The one about mental ailments worries me, however. I am hoping they are merely referring to the flashbacks that have been occurring since the Nebraska incident, and hopefully provide an explanation as to why they were even occurring in the first place…and then there was one with my name on it, literally. I looked up at my secretary. **

** "Is there anyone setting out to find these lost files?" I ask. **

** She placed her teacup on its saucer. "Indeed there has. It may take weeks, months at the most." **

** Months…time…I did not have time. Heihachi knows I am alive, and the longer I would wait for my answers, the sooner that he would get onto my side of the board and call "Checkmate". **

**She looked at me as if she were reading my thoughts…I had seen this look before, and I hated it… **

** "As much as I will regret this." She sighed. "I have a video clip that was taken earlier this morning. A breaking news report…perhaps this is opportunity knocking at your door." **

** I took the laptop, and played the video clip. Heihachi (who, I noticed, has aged rather poorly. Serves him right, but I wonder if I will end up meeting a similar fate—probably won't live long enough o find out) had called together some sort of conference to make an announcement to the news media. He took his damn time before he began to speak, the flashes of cameras reflected upon his form and that of two bodyguards. I drummed my fingers on the table with one hand, and turned the audio up on the laptop with the other in case the old man finally said something. My secretary simply sat there, enjoying her tea. The old man's lips appeared to be forming the first words since the video clip started, a minute and a half ago. He thanked the press for showing up to his impromptu conference… **

** Yeah, Heihachi thankful. That will be the day…but then again, I am no more thankful than he (and why should I anyway? Nobody ever did anything for me, and if they did, you think I would give a shit? I don't ask for anyone's approval, because I DON'T approve of any of them. ). **

** Suddenly, my train of thought was put to a halt—more like derailed, when my ears picked up on the announcement Heihachi had to make. **

** "I hereby announce the '_King of the Iron Fist Tournament Four_'—" **

** Whatever else he had to say, I did not hear it. All I thought about was the coming of a Fourth Iron Fist…and I knew why it was announced. **

** The Tekken Forces had cameras mounted on their helmets, this I recalled. I also recalled that when I met up with them, I spoke into one, and Heihachi just so happened to be on the receiving end of it, for which I was glad for, as I had issued my warning…and promise…to him. However, I came into realization as to why this tournament was announced…Heihachi's ulterior motives… **

** …Me. It was me he was after. For what, I could only guess as for the simple pleasure of killing me again, making sure I wouldn't be so easily (ha) resurrected this next time around. If I wanted to enter this tournament, I would be walking into a trap… **

** He must think I am stupid if he thinks that I will waltz into this one solely to put an end to him. I would save that honor for another time. It would be too obvious if I were entering to kill him. **

** The only reason I would enter is because it would be my only shot of retrieving that missing information without waiting…putting my life on the line, and risking getting a bullet in the head. **

**Frankly, I prefer my way. **

**I turn to my secretary; she was looking at me in that way I did not like. **

** "You will be entering?" **

** Slowly, I shut the case on the laptop computer. "If I am to get what it is I seek, then you already know my answer. Be sure you leave this folder here." I stood up, and headed for my room. **

** "Mishima-sama." **

** I turn around. **

** She removed her glasses. "Just so you know, I will be behind you every step of the way." **

** I was not one for being wished "good luck" or receiving any kind of support, but with my secretary it was different. She too was willing to sacrifice herself for my cause. Tool. **

** I enter my room, closing the door shut. Leaning with my back against the wall, I slowly slide to a seating position… **

** "King of the Iron Fist Tournament Four"; that is such an incomplete and incorrect title. "The King of the Iron Fist Tournament, Formatted to Fuck Over Mishima Kazuya" seems appropriate enough. **

** I suddenly feel a nicotine craving coming on. **

**It had been about nine hours since the announcement…a full pack of cigarettes was reduced to an almost depleted pack of cigarettes. I had resisted thinking any more about this upcoming tournament…it was definitely a trap, but I would approach this for completely different reasons. No matter how I look at it, however, there's only one reason Heihachi would want to lure me into this: he wants me dead. That's all there is to it.**

** That's all…? **

** I smile…and chide myself. I know better than this; I'm smarter than this. Heihachi's ulterior motive runs deeper than just wanting me dead…the G-Corporation attacks are proof…and I am somehow involved with the G-Corporation as well. They got a hold of information that I need…information about me. **

** Well fuck me; I guess there is more to this. **

** Heihachi has me right where he wants me. He probably knows I want that information he has. He definitely knows I want to kill him. **

** I lower my head, eyes shut. I can almost see his lips forming the word "Checkmate…" **

** …But this isn't going to be that kind of game. I'm a card man, myself, and like I had once stated, I'M holding all the cards now. **

** But what is in that hand, I do not know, out of fear that what they will say will prove disadvantageous on my end. I will just give myself the benefit of the doubt. **

** It may be my only…only… **

** I try to say the four-lettered word, but it is difficult…I've never believed in what that little word stood for in its most extreme context, and I do not know if I can say it now. **

_**Hope…**_

__**My eyes snap open. A voice in the back of my mind…a voice I had not heard in such a long time, so long that I cannot recognize it…a voice said the word for me.**

**Hope…I shake my head. You shouldn't believe in concepts that never gave a damn about you anyway. Hope never bothered with me, so why should I bother with it?**

**I light up my tenth cigarette. If the tournament doesn't kill me, then this sudden binge will. I laugh to myself at the thought, even though it is hardly funny. I once knew someone who would do worse than I was doing now. He smoked an entire carton in a week's time, and yet, he still managed to prove himself a rather formidable fighter…not formidable enough against me, of course—**

**--But that is just a page in my past, a book that should be kept shut and under lock and key.**

**If I were going to stand a chance in Hell, I would have to take my training a little more seriously. I have not neglected it too badly, but it would have to be my number one priority until I walk out of there either victorious and alive…honestly, I could settle for just the latter. At this point, I don't care if I win or lose. Heihachi may want me, but I do not want him.**

**Not yet, anyway. He may have gotten older, but I do not doubt for a minute that he is just as lethal now as he was twenty years ago…improving on his beloved Mishima-style Karate. He isn't the only one; I've picked up a few tricks of my own. But how will it stand against his? I leave that to the cards.**

**The silence in this room almost drives me mad. I grab the remote control, and flip on the television. I flip through the many channels—why there are so many channels showing the same tired shit just in a funny hat is beyond me—until I come across a news channel discussing this morning's announcement.**

**They were discussing the controversy…oh; how I did not miss dealing with that when I organized the second tournament. However, it appears that the press is being much more difficult to Heihachi than they ever were to me.**

**There were representatives from the government; one of them was arguing that the tournament was a crime against human rights and a man's right to live.**

**I found myself laughing once more.**

**People often find my sense of humour sarcastic and sardonic…. **

** I laughed because of how brilliant of an actor this representative was…trying to lay his sappy sentiment on Heihachi, his lawyers, and other representatives of the MFE; trying to dissect every detail about how brutal one could be slain, though his over-the-top efforts would be in vain. Oh, and here he is, talking about how they allow WOMEN (I over-emphasized this word just as much as he did) to participate in such a "barbaric and merciless blood sport". Then, he brings up how they allowed "a minor; a sixteen-year-old girl" to take part in the tournament. A woman (who I was unsure whether she really gave a damn or was acting as well) representing animal rights interrupts her fellow representative, mentioning that they "forced a grizzly bear and an endangered panda to participate as well". Drama so trite and pathetic can be of decent quality when one can remark on it… **

**I continue watching the government representatives and their poor attempts of an argument. Perhaps if they were not so hypocritical, their arguments would show a little more merit. I have heard the phrase "practice what you preach"; it is obvious that what it is they are trying to preach to Heihachi is that he should "do as we say, not as we do". **

** I have my own preaching for every one of them, and in my opinion, far more helpful: They all should just go fuck themselves. **

**At this point, the telecast is pointless. I hear different representatives say the same damn things, just with altered wording to appear to come across as different. I see Heihachi making counter-arguments or using the tried-but-not-necessarily-true "no comment" formula, and it is at this point that I realize that the curtain should have gone down on this performance ten minutes ago. Remote control in hand, I turn the television off, walk up to my bed, and lie down. **

** In my half-asleep state, I allow for my mind to wander… **

** …And I see myself in a rather plain hotel room. The place around me isn't the only thing that was different now…time had changed, moving back to a past I and I alone only knew. I almost felt a sense of déjà vu, but the man that I speak of shared little in common with me as far as our priorities went. We both wanted to kill our fathers, yes; but it ended there. He entered _solely_ to kill his father and take the Mishima Zaibatsu. I entered to learn the truth and perhaps put an end to the accursed Zaibatsu, because I want nothing more to do with it. The young man before me seemed so sure of himself…he had trained so long and hard for this occasion, I could tell. However, he was stupid! He was stupid because he should have known that there would be consequences. **

** There are ALWAYS consequences. **

** I open my eyes…that young man…yes, I know him very well. I should know him, because…because it was those very consequences that got me where I was today. It was his fault, after all. Do I hate him for that? Somewhat. If not for his actions, I would not have gained a better insight of what it is I was truly doing. Do I wish that he thought the same way then as I do now? Yes…and no. If he had thought this through thoroughly, he would have met with a more pleasant fate. I say no as well, because he was still young, and one tends to act more carelessly during that time. I also think he is damn fortunate—not everyone gets second chance. **

** I sneered. What was in the past was in the past. I start regretting my past actions now, I may end up seeking excessive therapy—and I may be seeking that for the rest of my life. **

** I sat up, extinguishing my cigarette, staring straight ahead. I need to lay off the cancer sticks if I am going to be at my best. How much time I will have to train depends on how soon Heihachi could organize it…the government would prove a thorn in his side, but I doubt that they will be bothering him for long. I shake my head. Any amount of time would be good enough for me. I grab my suitcase, and open it up, looking for the items I would need. I pulled up a pair of red gloves. They were cut-off gloves, with a buckle for guaranteed hold. The round rivulets reflected the light from the room…I once had a pair somewhat similar to these…red, with the rivulets that were in rows of four; in a descending order from my knuckles of four rivulets, three rivulets, two, and then one. The pattern was that of a simple triangle, but I felt it was something of a trademark design of my own. **

**Ahh, how I love the smell of sentiment in the morning. Or whatever the hell time of day it may be… **

**I pull out another necessary item…a pair of white gi pants. I wore a pair like these decades ago, but I made a few changes on these as well. I had it custom designed to sport a rather unique design; although abstract, the design represented the legendary phoenix…I had chosen this because I too practically rose from the ashes of death. I had actually never worn it before; instead favouring a pair that was of a much simpler design. **

** This pair would debut at the fourth Iron Fist, but solely for its symbolic purposes. **

** I packed the items back inside the suitcase, and sighed. All that was left to do now was wait until the tournament arrived…but I would not be waiting simply sitting around… **


End file.
